Think
by xoxothesubwayfugitive
Summary: Hermione, imprisoned after she is unable to escape Malfoy Manor, is subject to physiological games at the hands of Lucius. Dark and creepy, the way you like them.
1. Speak

**Thank you to Luminous Crystal for encouraging me to pull this out of my very old draft pile, and for also appreciating dark Lucius!**

 **A one-shot for now, but I suppose I could be persuaded to add more if it got enough reviews...**

* * *

"Think, Miss Granger," he purred into her ear, "of all the things I can make you feel."

She blanched and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut so that she wouldn't have to see him anymore. Lucius only moved closer when she did so, and she felt his gloved hand come to rest at her throat.

"Now, now. You're spoiling all the fun."

"Leave me alone, pervert," she said, trying to sound a lot stronger than she felt.

"This is my house," he said, and she heard his tone grow sharper. "And you are my prisoner, so we will play by my rules." He turned her face to his with an iron grip on her cheeks, but still she kept her eyes closed.

"I want you to call me something, Miss Granger. Mudblood, I should say. I want you to call me Master."

"Never."

"Always. You're Mudblood and I am Master."

"No."

"Crucio."

She screamed and screamed for what seemed like hours until he released her from the spell, and when he did she slumped down against the wall where he held her. If it hadn't been for his grip she would have hit the floor.

"Say it."

"Master."

"Better. Much better. Keep that in mind for the next time I come."

And with that he was gone, vanishing into the corridor and locking the door behind him.

The fine layer of sweat on her brow chilled her, and she wished for a blanket in the dark cell.

* * *

Hermione believed two days to have passed when he returned, but she couldn't know for sure. She couldn't know anything for sure. When Lucius came she cowered, just like she had always said she never would.

"Mudblood," he said coolly, walking to her and pulling her hands away from her face with his cane.

"M…Master," she stuttered. "Please…don't."

"Don't what? What sort of assumptions are you making, girl?" He dropped a woolen blanket on the floor; clearly his only object had been to bring it to her.

She was silent.

"Yes, that's what I thought. Well, I hadn't come down here to do anything, but I am here to do something now. On your knees."

"But…"

"Knees," he commanded, cutting her off.

The floor hurt her bruised joints and the thought of things to come hurt her bruised mind.

"Don't make me be explicit, Mudblood. Just do it."

He dug the head of his cane into her shoulder blade and pulled her close, and she reached out to his zipper with shaking hands.

 _What would they say?_ she wondered as she slid his pants down to his ankles and felt the smallest tingle of delight far, far away from her battered brain.

* * *

"Let me come to bed with you," she pleaded, pulling the blanket from the corner around her naked body. He was buttoning his shirt back up, getting ready to leave her yet again.

"What did you forget, Mudblood?" he cautioned.

"Master," she replied, and she wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Lucius Malfoy was her master. She didn't know what day it was, or what time, or how the war was going at all, but she knew that Lucius Malfoy was her master, and that was all that mattered.

"Good. Anyway, it's 2 o' clock in the afternoon upstairs and I have people to see, so you will be staying here. What makes you think I would take you there in the first place?"

"I thought... maybe you liked having me near."

"Look at yourself. Really look. You're a mess, and you're a Mudblood, and I have a wife. You'll be staying in this cell, on the floor, where you belong, or so help me God."

"Master, when you aren't here, I miss you."

"Too damn bad."

"When I came here, you said you could make me feel things, exquisite things. You swore. And now you won't let me leave this hell hole."

Her indignation earned her a slap across the face, but when she turned back to him he was smiling.

"The word 'exquisite' is your own, Mudblood."

* * *

At the beginning, Hermione would think about how she came to be here, and where Harry and Ron were now, and if they were succeeding. One misstep on her part had left her behind at Malfoy Manor when Dobby had taken the others away, and no one ever came back for her. In her head, the moment played again and again, and she prayed and prayed to have a redo. She could still remember the stunned silence that took over the room as she fell back hard from the whirlpool of light.

"Looks they forget you, didn't they little Mudblood?" Bellatrix had finally cooed as Hermione lay there, frantically thinking of what to do next. "To the dungeons with you, I think." And she had gestured at Lucius, who came immediately forward and lifted Hermione off the floor.

"I'll take care of her, Bella," he had said, and then he had taken her to her new home in dungeons and tortured her until she called him Master.

She didn't think about the redo anymore.

* * *

"So this is our Mudblood," Narcissa said, observing Hermione from outside the bars of her cell. "Sad. She's actually quite pretty up close."

"Is she?"

They were looking at her, pressed up against the back wall of the cell wrapped in her blanket, as if she were a thing in a zoo. She looked back, and noticed that Narcissa seemed to be scanning every inch of her body. A part of her, the part of herself that she hated but that was always growing stronger, felt sick looking at him standing next to his actual wife, the wife who knew nothing of their games. And she would never know, because no matter how tenderly Lucius whispered _Mudblood_ after he took her there on the stone floor, he didn't want her in his proper, upstairs life.

"You don't…you don't _play_ with her, do you Lucius?" Narcissa's posh voice faltered slightly, and Hermione could sense tension flickering between the two of them. "She looks rather rough."

"Darling, you know that I only do what is necessary to get information from her. How could I ever use something like _that_?" He sent a dismissive wave Hermione's way. Narcissa's lips curled, reassured

A surge of bravery came over Hermione, maybe driven on by spite, or maybe jealously, and she knew what she was going to do.

She didn't think for a second about the consequences it would bear.

"He does play with me!" she shrieked out, crawling forward towards them, and Narcissa's expression changed. "He touches me, and he's raped me, and –"

"Enough!" Lucius shouted, and with a bang Hermione flew against the back wall of the cell. She was in trouble, but was pleased to see the damage was done.

Narcissa turned to her husband, sending a nervous glance back at Hermione, who looked to have been knocked half unconcious.

" _Touch_ her, Lucius? A Mudblood? And not to mention – " But as her voice rose he grabbed her elbow, and led her back towards the stairs.

"We'll discuss this upstairs, Cissy."

* * *

She heard raised voice and some scuffling above her for quite some time, and then there was silence, followed by the tapping of shoes coming back down the dungeon stairs. She thought briefly about what would become of her now, but soon pushed the thought away. She had learned quickly after arriving at the Manor that wondering about her fate served no purpose.

Lucius appeared on the other side of the bars, disheveled. A bruise was forming on his cheek. She was scared again, bravery of the moment gone, and clutched her blanket to her chest.

"So," he began, and at the calm of his voice she closed her eyes. He was far beyond any point she had driven him to before. "Your words get you into trouble, don't they Mudblood?" All she could do was sit completely still, and wish she could crawl directly into the wall.

"Answer me!" he demanded, and her eyes flew open again. He looked like a man who would do anything.

"Yes, Master." She was ashamed; she had hurt him.

"Yes, they do," he agreed, and then he pointed his wand at her. Although she didn't hear exactly what he muttered under his breath, she felt something like searing hot liquid run down her throat. She tried to scream, and no sound came out.

"Yes," he continued, "so you won't be needing to speak anymore. Think of it as a favor from me to you, to keep you out of trouble. I don't see you needing your powers of speech for at least a month, not until Severus has finished with our new batch of Veritaserum." Again she opened her mouth to reply, to yell, to cry, anything, but she could only gasp. She was on her knees now, one hand braced on the floor, the other at her throat. He opened the door and came into the cell with her.

He kicked her, and then kicked her again, until she lay on her back, powerless.

"Smile, Mudblood," he said. "The worst is yet to come."


	2. Truth

He came back in the morning, and crouched down next to where she was still trying to get a little rest. She peeled an eye open, and try to convey anger with only a look.

"My wife has left me, Mudblood. Says she can't be with someone who would cheat on her with such filth." He was coiling one of her curls around and around his finger. "I told her I didn't think it was cheating if it was with something…subhuman, but she disagreed. Now she's at her wretched mother's house, and I'm here all by myself." He looked almost thoughtful. "So I don't see any harm in bringing you upstairs now, really. The Dark Lord would like to see you serving us, I believe, and it'll be so much easier when I need to…" He paused for a second, eyes roaming over her "…access you."

Her blood curdled at the thought of him "accessing" her in a more public place. He placed his hand around her arm to jerk her upwards, and her mouth fell open, wanting to protest. He took notice, and laughed at her.

"What do you want to say, Mudblood? Tell me." She gaped at him, and then remembered herself and closed her mouth. He sneered. "Be honest with yourself, girl. You like this."

He opened the cell door and pulled her to the stairs, and she stumbled slightly in the dark, although his grip never relinquished.

"Maybe she was right after all," he mused when they stepped into the light at the top of the stairs. "You are sort of pretty."

* * *

He took her to his bedroom, and dressed her in a plain, clean shift. He had made a show of tossing her Muggle clothes on the fire one by one as he peeled them off, and his fingers had trailed across her body as he did so. She cringed at her desire to moan out, and was glad deep inside that she could not.

"You're really lucky I let you have anything at all," he told her.

She knew this.

"I suppose you want me to touch you," he said, noting the desperate look in her eye.

She wanted to nod, painfully so, but she held herself back, pride still struggling inside her.

"Yes, I suppose you do. But I won't, never will. Can't dirty myself by touching you like that. You're just for _my_ pleasure, understand?"

She nodded then.

"Good. Now, you'll sleep in my bed, even against my better judgement, because I'm used to having someone there. But in the morning, when I'm finished with you, I'll send you straight down to the kitchen to be with the house-elves. I've given Tabby very specific instructions for what you should be occupied with, and I trust her to keep you on track. You'll make a good servant, won't you Mudblood?"

Nod.

"In to bed with you then. No need for any clothes."

* * *

The next morning, he woke her by forcibly flipping her to her front and fucking her from behind. He came quickly with a low groan, and collapsed forward onto her, lying there for a few moments.

"Get up," he said as he rolled off, slapping her on the ass. "I'm taking you to the kitchen." He went to shower and get dressed; all Hermione had to do was pull her shift back over her head.

20 minutes later they were working their way through labyrinthine halls, down a different set of stairs than the one he had just brought her up the day before.

"Remember the way," he said as they met yet another turn. She was running to keep up with his long strides. "I won't bring you down again."

* * *

In the kitchens, which were as massive as you would expect, he presented her to a very stern old elf.

"Tabby," he said, placing his cane in-between Hermione's shoulder blades, "keep a good eye on her, and make sure she works hard. And tell me if she ever disobeys."

The pressure on her back disappeared, and she heard his cloaks swirl behind her as his boots click away.

"I raised Master Lucius, and Master Draco, too. I is very loyal to them," Tabby said, looking up at Hermione with suspicious eyes. "So I will be keeping very close eyes on you, Mudblood."

Hermione chopped vegetables all morning, in such quantity that she couldn't imagine who would be eating them all, and ate a meager lunch with the elves. She had just been tasked with scrubbing the kitchen floor when Lucius reappeared, and called to her.

"She'll be with me the rest of the afternoon, Tabby," he said, and the elf bowed very low.

"Did you have fun?" he asked as they climbed back up to the main floor. She nodded her head once, keeping her eyes down.

"Good; we're going to go have some more now."

* * *

His most favorite thing to do was to ask her questions she couldn't answer. Simple things, sometimes, or more probing queries when he had that cruel glint in his eye.

"What's your favorite color, Mudblood?" was the first thing he asked her, and when she closed her eyes she saw red as she felt her lips fall open.

"Do you think about the Weasley boy when you pleasure me?" he had once asked. "Or do you think about how much you want to come?"

Added torture was asking her very basic school questions, things like the 12 uses of dragon's blood or the names of the founders of Hogwarts. When she couldn't answer he would say things like "Pity, I thought you were meant to be smart. More proof, I suppose, that Mudbloods are inherently less than."

* * *

"Tabby told me you were quite bad today."

Her heart stilled. It wasn't true exactly; all that had happened was that she had gotten very lost on her way to the kitchens that morning. Hermione found that the longer she spent without her voice, the more trouble she had remembering things. But at the heart of the matter, yes, she had been much later than she was meant to be, and Tabby had set her to polish an enormous pile of silver with the promise that she wouldn't eat until she had finished.

"I have half a mind to send you back down to the dungeons. You're really much more useless than I could have guessed."

She shook her head violently, barely realizing what she was doing. Again, as he always did when he had won, he smiled.

"You can't tell me you prefer it up here? In bed with me, your worst enemy, every night, and grueling labor every day? Oh my, what a revelation."

Hermione kept looking down; her ability to look away from him was the only thing that kept her halfway to sane. The head of his cane came to rest under her chin, and he pushed up so that she had to meet his eyes.

"I know you want to come, Mudblood. I see it in your eyes every time I fuck you. But you're too sweet, too embarrassed to touch yourself in front of me, aren't you? Or maybe you just don't want to give in?" He regarded her, looking for hints in her eyes. "Either way, I think I'd like to see you orgasm, just for me. So you're going to lie down while I sit in the armchair, and you're going to touch yourself until you finish. Or else."

Her feet were glued to the floor, and chills ran down her arms. How could she humiliate herself like this?

How could she not?

* * *

One day Hermione was lying in bed, just staring at the wall. There was nothing else for her to do; she wasn't even sure what time it was. Lucius left early that morning, after the routine quick fuck, and had told her she wouldn't be going to the kitchens that day. She could still feel him pulling at her hair, and she ran her hands through it and through it as she lay there.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and she scrambled to sit up straight. Snape burst into the room, practically running ahead of those who followed him. She locked eyes with him, embarrassed of him seeing her that way, and he mouthed a single word at her: _lie_. And then he opened his cloak, however briefly, and showed her two vials of liquid in such a way that those behind him couldn't see. Both were clear but one, in comparison to the other, was slightly different, murkier.

She opened her mouth to speak, a reflex that never broke no matter how long she was voiceless.

Following him, to her horror, were Lucius, Bellatrix, and Voldemort himself, along with a few other Death Eaters she didn't recognize. And then there, way at the back, was Draco, who was turning violently red.

"Stay," Lucius commanded as Hermione tried to scrambled out of the bed. They surrounded her, Snape standing by her head, Bellatrix and Lucius next to him, Voldemort at the foot of the bed looking directly at her. The others filled the corners of the room, watching.

"Open your mouth," Snape told her, and she obeyed, feeling very strange and perverted. He pulled out a vial, and only she was able to tell that it was slightly tainted; anyone who hadn't seen the other would have thought it perfectly clear. Her old professor carefully put three drops straight down her throat.

"Close," he said, "and swallow."

This done, he pointed his wand at her throat and un-Silenced her; this time it felt as if the hot liquid was rushing back up. Hermione coughed once, opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it, unwilling to make a misstep.

"Surely you know, Miss Granger, why we are here. We want to hear everything you know about the location and plans of Harry Potter, or of the Order of the Phoenix," Snape said.

"Where is Harry Potter?" Voldemort interrupted from the foot of the bed. His eyes were glowing; clearly he thought this was his moment.

"I don't know," Hermione responded, her voice still hoarse, and it was the truth.

"Where did he plan to go next before you were captured?"

"I don't know," she said, now lying a little, although most of their planning had happened day by day.

"What were you hunting?"

"Hunting?" she asked, playing innocent. It was surprisingly easy, until she looked to Lucius and saw that he was seething with anger. _He knows_ , she thought, hating herself for disappointing him. _He's seeing through it all._

"While you and the Weasley boy were running around the countryside with him, what were you after?"

"We weren't after anything. We were just hiding. Obviously none of us could have gone back to Hogwarts."

"Where is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"I can't say." Another truth.

"What were Dumbledore's last instructions to Harry Potter?"

"I don't know."

"Kept you in the dark, did he?"

"Yes." But she could tell that Voldemort was beginning to doubt.

"Were you ever trained in Occlumency?"

"No."

He turned to Severus.

"Give me that Veritaserum."

"Yes, My Lord." And Snape produced from his cloak the other vial, the most perfectly clear one. Voldemort put three drops down his own throat, to the amazement of those around him, and swallowed. He remained still for a moment, concentration etched on his terrible face, and then turned to Bellatrix.

"Ask me what my name is," he commanded, and she did. His face contorted, clearly trying to force out a lie, and all waited for at least 15 seconds before he finally blurted out "Lord Voldemort, formerly Tom Marvolo Riddle."

He looked disappointed; perhaps he had wanted to punish Severus.

"She is useless," he said. "Come, everyone. On to the others." And he swept out, Bellatrix so close to him that she almost stepped on his robes. Draco followed her, giving one last stricken look back at Hermione, and Snape went as well, not looking to her at all. The periphery Death Eaters left last, and Lucius looked like he would follow them, but instead he shut the door at their heels, turning slowly back to where she lay in his bed.

"If you know anything, Mudblood, be advised that I will get it out of you. I don't need Veritaserum to reveal truths. Or maybe you'd like to play with Bellatrix for a while?" He stalked back towards her. "Either way, I think I'll let you keep your voice. I was starting to miss your screams."

"Yes, Master," she replied, completely automatic.


	3. Feeling

Lucius came into the room she had been scrubbing on her hands and knees for most of the day, walking over to her as he purposefully scuffed his feet through her work.

"There's a lot of furniture in this room, isn't there?" he said, as if hadn't noticed before.

"Yes, Master," she replied, continuing with her work.

"It must be hard to move about without magic."

"It is."

"But you're getting every inch of the floor, aren't you? Even if it means pushing things out of the way?"

"Yes."

"Good."

He walked around for a while, obviously pleased that he was ruining what she had already done. Then he circled back, and stood before her, removing a piece of parchment from his robes.

"Hermione Jean Granger," he read, finally capturing her attention.

"What is that?" But he just held one finger up to silence her, and read on.

"Daughter of Caldwell and Ava Granger, born 19 September 1979. Only child." He watched his words sink in. "Do you miss your parents, Mudblood?"

"Yes, very much." How awful it felt to remember them, or to imagine how they would feel if they could see her then. Did they ever think of her, have one brief flash of memory of a small, curly haired girl whom they couldn't quite place?

"They may not miss you quite so much though. They certainly aren't waiting for you to come home."

"Master?"

"We went to the address listed on this piece of paper, this otherwise completely correct document, and we found nothing. Not one stick of furniture, much less two empty nesters. Do you have any idea where they are?"

"What do you want with them?" she asked, panic rising in her throat.

"None of your concern. I asked you a question, Mudblood."

"No, I don't know. I can't imagine where they've gone." But she couldn't look at him as she said this. Lying to him got harder every day.

"Because you would tell me if you knew, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now take a break from your work, and go over to the couch. Leave your dress here on the floor, that's my girl."

* * *

"Do you feel any affection towards me at all?" she asked quietly as she curled up on her side of the bed. Lucius furrowed his brow, as if he were concentrating very hard.

"No more or less than I do for the house elves, I suppose."

"Right." She curled up tighter, clutching herself.

"You're upset."

"Oh, I'm nothing."

"Good girl," he said, pulling the comforter almost completely to his side.

* * *

Despite his protestations, he had certainly never let a house elf sit at his feet while he read in his armchair, or permitted one to button up his robes each morning. He liked to smooth down her hair as she did this, and when she finished he would tuck a strand behind her ear and ask her to tell him what she knew about Harry Potter's mission. Every day she would say "nothing" and he would sigh, and send her to the kitchens.

* * *

Finally, there came a night when he wrapped his arms around her. Lucius Malfoy put his arms around Hermione Granger, a Mudblood by his own naming, and whispered in her ear that she was his _favorite_. And she, this golden girl, brightest in her class, was so pleased that she didn't even bother to say "Your favorite _what_?"

The next day, while they were having sex, he finally reached down and touched her, the one thing he had always sworn against.

"Come with me, Mudblood," he purred into her ear, and she did, descending into a state of maddening bliss.

This became their norm; whenever he could escape to be alone with her he would, and they would wrap themselves around one another in ecstasy. If Hermione cared that he still sent her to kitchens when he finished with her, or that he never spoke her real name aloud, she certainly didn't tell him.

* * *

During their morning ritual, when she had done up three quarters of his buttons and as he was beginning to finish arranging her hair just as he liked it, the bedroom door flew open, and Narcissa and Bellatrix stood framed in the light from the hall. Immediately, Lucius pushed Hermione away, and she fell hard on the floor. Energy was flowing, hot and fast, into the room from where the sisters stood, and for the first time, Hermione thought Lucius looked vulnerable.

"You will stop this foolishness, Lucius, and send her back to the dungeons. You won't see her anymore, and I will come back. We can't lose everything over this," Narcissa said, standing strong although her voice trembled.

"Of course, my love," he said immediately, to Hermione's horror. "I'm so glad you can understand, that you can forgive me." Lucius moved to his wife, and placed his hands at her waist, drawing her in to a kiss, and then he seemingly whispered something in her ear. Hermione cried out as if in pain, and at the sound Lucius drew away from Narcissa and looked to Bellatrix.

"Will you please take her back to her cell, Bella? I want to be alone with my wife now."

"Oh, with pleasure, Lucius," Bellatrix responded, smiling at Hermione. "She and I are sure to have a wonderful time together."

* * *

Bella spent most of her time with Hermione over the following days, alternately taunting her and torturing her, both with magic and with her little knife.

"Do you _miss_ him?" she would coo in Hermione's face, running the knife up and down the pale flesh of her arms. "Do you wish he would come down here and tell you he _loves_ you?"

But Hermione had long since shut down, staring into space and keeping her mouth shut.

"He's up there right now, with Narcissa. They haven't left their bedroom since you came back down here. But they don't stay quiet, no, not at all."

At that Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and Bellatrix drew away.

"Don't be so sad, Mudblood. You have me."

Hermione opened her eyes only slightly, and saw Bellatrix standing near the cell door, wand out.

"Crucio!" she screamed, and Hermione, past caring, just lay there, feeling the pain rush over her again and again but not yelling out, not moving. The pain stopped, and she heard the clatter of Bellatrix's wand falling, and then hot breath on her face. Once again, Bellatrix was crouching over her, jeering.

"What is it going to take, Mudblood?" she screeched. "Tell me what you were seeking, and I will leave you alone! This can all end!"

Hermione opened her eyes, looking into the mania that defined Bellatrix. Very quietly, she spoke.

"I'll only talk to Lucius," she said, and that was that. She shut her eyes again, and prepared for the onslaught of mockery.

But Bellatrix seemed taken by this idea, and stood again. If her eyes had been open, Hermione could have seen the spark that crossed the other woman's face in that moment.


	4. Good

Very late that night, Hermione was awoken by rattling at her cell door. Although it remained nearly pitch black as someone entered, she could see his pale blonde hair reflecting light, and she rose immediately to her feet in anticipation.

"It's you," she murmured in wonderment. She held out her arms, and he made his way to her, wrapping her up in warm cloth and the smell of fine cologne.

"Yes, it's me. It was getting to be unbearable without you." He lowered her back down to the ground, holding her close, and they just knelt there, breathing in one another.

"You understand, don't you Mudblood?" he asked as he began to run his hands through her hair, unknotting tangles. "You understand why I had to send you back down here?"

"Yes," she said readily, even though she didn't, or didn't want to. Anything to keep him there, keep him talking to her.

And then he did something he had never done before.

He kissed her.

It was firm, and warm, and wonderful, and she felt as if she would do anything for him as his hands roamed from her face to down around her waist. When he drew away, she made a little whimper, and she was sure he was smiling, even though she couldn't see.

"I should really go upstairs now, before I'm missed." Lucius stood, and she remained on her knees. "Unless there's something you'd like to tell me."

The idea of him leaving her there, all alone in the dark, was overwhelming, and she lunged out to grab the hem of his robes.

"Stay, just stay, and let me think for a moment."

"Good girl. Lie down a bit, and I'll sit with you."

And he did, gathering her head into his lap and pulling her blanket across her.

"Now think very hard about what would please me the most, Mudblood. Think about what I want to hear." He was stroking her hair and cheek, and briefly, she imagined that they were a normal couple, together in their bed after a day's work.

And of course Hermione knew what she could tell him. In the dark, the images flashed before her eyes: Tom Riddle's diary, the locket, the ring, the others they had yet to capture. And she saw Harry's face, and Ron's, and all of her other friends and family who were surely counting on her, maybe even at that exact moment, to not break under his pressure.

And as his hands laid heavy on her shoulders, she couldn't care anymore. All that was left was him.

"Horocruxes," she said, almost too softly to hear.

"Come again?"

"We were looking for his Horocruxes. Tell him that and he'll know what it means. That's it."

Suddenly the solid plane that was his lap was gone, and she fell hard down to the cold stone. He had gotten up, and was in the process of opening the cell door.

"Where –" she began, but he cut her off with the clanging of the lock.

"You trust too much, Mudblood," he said from the other side of the barred wall. Lucius lit his wand, and revealed Bellatrix and Voldemort to be standing in a niche just across the hall from where she lay.

"We'll leave you alone then," Lucius said, smoothing back his hair and straightening his shoulders. "The elves will keep you fed from now on."

"You did very well, Mudblood," Voldemort said, just before they all made their way down the hall, leaving her in darkness again.

"Wait!" Hermione cried out, confused as she had never been before. "Wait, what are you doing? Lucius, Master, please come back, I love you!"

The three figures froze at the base of the stairs, but only one turned back.

"Go on," Bellatrix said to the men. "I just want to do one more thing." She lit her wand and listened for them to leave, which they did without one backwards glance. When the door at the top of the stairs swung shut, she grinned at Hermione.

"I don't want to have to live my days hearing you scream out for him, Mudblood, saying things you'll regret," she said, and the burning pain shot down Hermione's throat once more.

* * *

It must have been a week later when they came, rushing down the stairs in such a hurry that she thought the whole house was falling to pieces. Blazing bright light arrived before they did, causing Hermione to shield her eyes and cower. But there wasn't anything to fear, as suddenly Harry and Ron and Kingsley Shacklebolt were standing outside of her cell, muttering all sorts of spell to unlock the door. It sprang open, and Ron rushed to her side before Hermione could even understand what she was seeing.

"Are you hurt?" he questioned, falling to his knees beside her and burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm so sorry we left you, I can't imagine what it's been like…I love you, Hermione, I do, you know that don't you? I should have said it before and I've been hating myself for it…"

Feebly, she put her arms around him as he babbled on, and the fog began to clear. They were real, solid people, not figments of her guilty imagination. She looked up to Harry and Kingsley, who were both holding out their hands, and warmth ran through her.

"Blimely, Hermione, say something," Ron said, falling back onto his heels and looking at her. His face changed as her hands came to her throat, clutching at it, and as her mouth gaped open without sound.

"Something's wrong," Harry said, pulling her up. "They've done something to her."

"Calm down boys. Let get her upstairs and ask him what's happened before we panic over it," Kingsley said, reassuring as ever. He smiled at her, and she tried to twitch up the corners of her mouth.

She stumbled as they led her through the open cell door, and had to be supported up the stairs by the boys, her boys. The house elves hadn't been very regular or generous in feeding her, and she was weak. They tried to fill her in on the things she had missed, talking over one another to a point of complete confusion, and in her head she was screaming _But what happened?_ over and over, in complete disbelief that they had won after she had revealed the secret of the Horocruxes.

Up and up they went, winding their way through the whole Manor until they arrived in the room Hermione had cleaned, painstakingly, by hand. There were at least half a dozen other Aurors there, and she assumed there were more throughout the house. But what caught her eye first was a struggling figure, bound completely in chains and propped up against the far wall.

"What have you done to her, Malfoy?" Kingsley called out, striding ahead of Hermione and the boys.

"Never were much good at Charms, eh Shacklebolt?" he called, smug to the last and struggling as if there were any chance he could escape.

"No, you're right. Turned a much better hex than anything," Kingsley replied, raising his wand as a threat.

"Fine, fine. Simple Silencio. You'll have your know-it-all back in no time."

Kingsley turned and performed the counterspell, and she immediately began to cry as the hot pain rushed through her.

"I want to go home," she gasped, and Ron's arm tightened around her shoulders.

"Take her, boys. No reason for her to suffer here anymore. I need to stay, so just be careful out there," Kingsley said, clearly running through a mental checklist of what needed to happen next.

"My wand," she croaked, looking back and forth between Harry and Ron. "You got it right, when you left?"

Harry groped around in his jacket pockets for a bit, and while he did Hermione stole a glance at Lucius, pushing away the urge to run back to him. He winked at her and she shuddered, turning away.

"There you go," Harry said, finally producing the wand, which was admittedly a little worse for the wear.

"Couldn't clean it?" she asked, and it felt good to joke.

"We've been busy," Ron said. "Come on, you need something to eat. To the Burrow?"

"I guess so," she said, and Ron seemed to sense her trepidation.

"I'll make sure no one bothers you, ok? The three of us can just catch up, if you'd like."

"While I lie in bed?"

"Absolutely. Maybe we had better shove three beds all in a row, actually."

She smiled with more strength, and the three began to make their way from the room.

"Mudblood!" a voice called, and instinctively, and to the shock of her friends, she turned. Lucius was still smiling, somehow confident that he would escape this too, just as he had escaped other things.

"Just remember," he said, eyes shifting from her to Ron. "You'll never have anyone as good as me."

Her stomach plummeted even as the boys ushered her away, whispering kind words to her.

* * *

 **I _think_ (hey, that's the name of the story!) that this is going to wrap this one up. I really want to focus on my story Traitorous Blood right now, and having two wips was getting confusing! But I'm happy with how this turned out and I hope you guys liked it, it was a fun little plot bunny to wrestle with!**

 **xoxo**


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